Foo Fighters
by falsestart
Summary: 1918: Second Impact. 1942: A world war is going on while the Angel War starts. Can seven children put down their differences to actually kill the Angels? Or will they kill each other first? Why are lights appearing in the sky though? And who is Killroy?
1. Chapter 1

(AN: First off, I'd like to say that even though I know many things about WW2 I by no means know _everything_. If you come across any odd fact about that era that you think might have some relevance to this story go ahead and send me a message if you want. Secondly, things will get weird near the middle to end (and by weird I mean things like time travel, alternate universes, aliens, psychics, and the like) do not worry, I am not insane. Thirdly, I do not own anything that already has been copyrighted, any person or company who owns something in my story and does not want it there can message me with their complaint and I will remove the irritant. Fourthly, enjoy. Fifthly, I am editing the second part of _The Artist_ whenever the lightning bolt of inspiration hits me again.)

Foo Fighters

A WW2/Evangelion story

Prelude

(June 3, 1942: Manzanar War Relocation Center/ California)

Dust devils spun in wild cycles as a philistine sun unmercifully baked the hardpack desert. A peevish wind blew stinging, biting dust at everything, rendering the air with a hazy aura that would trick the eye with brown illusions. The only settlement in the area were buildings made of loose wood and black tarpaper that offered little relief from the wind, heat, and the cold that would come in the winter. The dwellers of the barracks had tried to make the area as beautiful as they could with gardens, but the plants had just shriveled in the heat- bemoaning in the way that only vegetation could that it wanted to die.

Barbed wire connecting eight watch towers surrounded the camp, a cruel joke since there was no other habitation around for many man-killing miles around. The world had moved on with Second Impact- a worldwide depression and now another world war had just made the planet move faster towards some sort of doom. But no one cared really… Day by day people went on with their lives as they always had. Let GEHIRN and the Human Salvation Committee in Hakone and Barcelona worry about the alien threats- that's the reason why they were not part of any country in the global war- everyone had to worry about the nations on the other side. Hirohito, Hitler, and Mussolini weren't going anywhere, were they?

Near the horizon, a larger, straight line of dust approached the compound; like an arrow headed for the bull's-eye, or a beam being shot to its target. A jeep drove its way down the lane in the waste, two American GIs in the front and an Institute member with his red and white uniform in the back seat rode in the vehicle all the way to the gate of the complex. The Marduk Institute member was Japanese-born and so was marked with suspicion, but he carried the right papers in his briefcase, and the Institute, GEHRIN, or the HSC were not part of any country so the GI's had to do whatever the Gook-man said to do. Not that he had asked for much, just a ride to Manzanar and a Coke; but it still felt wrong to the soldiers to be helping a person that probably knew a few pilots who had bombed Pearl Harbor.

The gate was opened by two Marines and the jeep slowly went through the widening opening. The man from Marduk looked to his right and saw a caricature of half a man's head and fingers peering over a line.

The caption underneath read, _Killroy was here._

"You Americans have that... problem too?" the Institute man asked as he gestured to the picture.

"Yep," the driver said without turning around, "it appeared right after a night-light show that happened here a few days ago."

"Night-lights?"

The other Army man paused and shifted his weight in a way that said he was touchy about the subject, "You know," he dragged out, "the Foo Fighters."

The jeep drove through a parade ground that had a flagpole in the very center of it. They passed lethargic-looking Japanese internees that looked at them with brief interest (the Institute's man visage hardened when he saw them) on their way to the office, their destination. It was a squat, wooden building that was quite ugly… It matched the landscape perfectly.

Inside was a thin, wire of a Texan that was the compound's commander; he stood from his paperwork when the men entered; he didn't salute but instead nodded in their direction. "What," he said, looking at the Institute man with obvious distrust, "do we owe for a visit from one of the fighters of 'the other war'?"

"Hello," the Marduk man said in broken English as he opened up his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope, "My name is Kisuke Yamamanto. The reason I… visited is because of these… papers." Kisuke gave the envelope to the CO who opened it and scanned through the pages.

He eyed the papers and then Kisuke with surprise, "You already have the White House's and the Western Brigade CO's approval to remove the child?"

"Yes, GEHRIN's and the… Committee's as well, now could you bring him here? I want to be rid of you… as much as you want to be rid of me."

The commander of the compound nodded and yelled into another room, "Becky? Could you get on the horn and get Shinji Ikari in here please?"

A voice that was most likely "Becky's" asked for Shinji Ikari to please come to the main office over loudspeakers attached to the corners of the building. A demure, brown-haired boy that had been interned for his heritage entered through the front door just a few seconds later. The boy looked around the room and his eyes fell on Kisuke in a brief flash of surprise.

"…Yessir?" Shinji asked of the CO, unsure of what was going on.

"Pack your bag Ikari, this here man is going to take you to…" he looked at the documents again, "…Japan. Congratulations, you're a pilot."

Shinji started in surprise. "Really sir?" he asked, not fully believing the news.

"Yes really, now get out of here," the CO brusquely commanded, "I have a lot of other work to do."

* * *

Five minutes later, the jeep drove out into the desert again with its new passenger. Kisuke turned to Shinji and started to spout off into a tangent in Japanese.

"I'm sorry sir," responded Shinji, he looked at the GI's to see if they were paying attention. They were by ear, "I don't speak Jap."

"You… do not?" Kisuke gasped, "You will have to… learn. All the… children… will have to learn Japanese."

The he laughed like there was some great joke that had been said, "Hitler was… quite… angry… when he found out."

The driver snickered a bit; he was obviously trying to hold it back, but he was failing miserably at it.

Shinji ignored the driver and asked, "Does that mean that you've found the other children?"

Kisuke nodded, "Hai… I mean, yes. Each… country will send a… naval fleet… to Hakone to… escort their pilot there. You will meet one on the American fleet… and the rest at the… ceremony in the city. Now… enjoy the… desert nature, this is your… last time to see… such beautiful… country."

Shinji could have said that he was sick of such 'beautiful country', after about five weeks of being stuck in the 'beautiful country' he had been just about to go crazy and brain himself with some rock. But he also realized that Kisuke was probably uncomfortable speaking in English, or had been close to letting something secret slip. Even though GEHRIN, the HSC, and the Marduk Institute were common knowledge, even what they generally did was somewhat known, they did keep a lot of secrets in fear of being a contributing factor in the war. Kisuke probably did not want to give the two GI's in the front seat anymore information then they had already received.

* * *

(Transcript from ABC Radio News)

The unofficial fifth, sixth, and seventh Children of GEHRIN have been discovered this week. Their official numbers and the official numbers of the other four children have yet to be announced. The total list is as of right now by order of discovery is:

Rei Ayanami, from Imperial Japan.

Harold Roy Glick, from the United Kingdom.

Asuka Langley Soryu, from Nazi Germany.

Kurt Tomas Norris, from Denver Colorado.

Enrico Bosconi, from Italy.

Shinji Ikari, from Los Angeles California.

And Daneeka Rostov, from Russia.

These children will be the first, last, and only defense against the angels… a threat to humanity that has not shown its face in the past fifteen years. May they be our saviors in this dark chapter of mankind.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: The _Boston_

(Port Hueneme, California)

The port was a bustling center of activity as navy personnel in white uniforms hustled and bustled around each other. Gray was the predominate color scheme; the gunmetal gray of battleships, the weathered gray of moist rope and old wooden planks, the speckled gray of concrete, the frothy gray of the sea. It was enough to make Shinji feel like the world had lost its color and had been replaced with a mono-chromatic parody. Even the navy-blue of his pants seemed to turn into black. His vision was becoming strained for the lack of color, and his eyes wandered for some rest in some sort of tint that was out of the ordinary. If the Marduk man, Kisuke, had been there; Shinji felt that he could have drank in all the red parts of his uniform all day long, as it was, he had to content himself with the rare differences in skin tone. But eventually, even those with black or brown skin became straining to the eyes.

Later, when he looked back to the moment that night, Shinji would realize that it should have come to no surprise that he would meet the other American Child this way. Kisuke did say that he would meet with the other one at the fleet. Nevertheless, he was surprised in one of his sweeping glances to find some color, that he found some color.

It was what appeared to be a small, gray, old man dressed in the yellow-brown of buckskin clothes; he was reading a book while rocking back and forth on his feet impatiently (Shinji notice that the clothing had fringe that swayed in motion with the man's movement as well). The old man looked up suddenly, as if he could sense that he was being watched, and then he turned his head towards Shinji. The man gave a slight wave, picked up a couple of bags, and walked over to him, when he came close enough, Shinji spotted his mistake. There was no man-there was a boy, about as old as he was; but he had gray hair, red eyes, and pale skin.

He was an albino.

"Hello, I'm Kurt Norris… though Kurt will be just fine," he said as he stuck out his hand to shake.

Shinji took it and gave his name, and then he inquired, "Why are you dressed in that outfit?"

Kurt smirked and laughed a little under his breath, "The Marduk guy that got me had an odd sense of humor, bought me this then said, 'Being from Colorado, people are expecting you to be some sort of hard character like you read about in those pulp westerns, like Wayne D. Overholster blowing into Blackfork Montana and cleaning up the place.'"

Shinji uttered about a grunt of disapproval. Both at the unknown Institute man and at Kurt- both seemed like they enjoyed the sound of their own voice too much.

A navy officer came up to them and asked of them, "Do you boys mind movin' to de side dere? I got a large load o' shells comin' through here in a moment."

Both boys looked up at surprise. They stated, "Yessir!" almost in unison and scurried to a wall.

"So, uh, Shinji?" Kurt asked a little sheepishly as he held up an English-to-Japanese book, "Do you understand Japanese?"

Shinji looked around to see if anyone was nearby who could judge him, no one was, "I told the Marduk man who picked me up that I don't, but I speak it somewhat fluently," he whispered, "but I'd rather you not spread it around."

Kurt blinked in surprise, then nodded in understanding, "Oh… sure." Then he asked, "Do you know what we're piloting?"

Shinji shook his head lightly. He didn't know… no one did; no one knew who they were going to fight as well, or how or even why they initiated Second Impact, or why they called themselves Angel's, or why GEHRIN was collecting children to fight… There were just too many unknowns, and the world was growing uneasy in its ignorance.

A black-haired woman in an enlisted navy uniform came up to both of them, "Shinji Ikari and Kurt 'Thomas' Norris?" she asked in a no-nonsense sort of way, like a stern librarian.

"Yes ma'am?" both of the boys said; again, almost in unison.

"You're quarters are ready on the _Boston_, follow me please."

She led them to a cruiser, where a sailor was hanging from the stern trying to paint over a design that had been burnt into the original coat of paint.

It was a caricature of a man with half his face and fingers leering over a line; the caption underneath was _Killroy was here._

Below that some prankster had painted with whitewash _Strangelove was here also, but you don't see HIM putting up HIS mark everywhere do ya?_

Shinji saw it and shook his head.

* * *

The navy lady guided them into the ship; the grayness continued even here, along with queer objects that seemed to be like perversions of the outside world: chains as handrails for stairs, having to turn a wheel to open a door and even then having to step over a giant plate, claustrophobia inducing hallways and rooms, the heat from the engines radiating from the darkness instead of from the light, the rolling and pitching of solid ground as the ship moved for the ocean waves that lapped up against it. 

The last one didn't bother Shinji very much, but Kurt seemed a little green around the gills already. Shinji inwardly sighed in relief at that bit of news, which meant that he would be alone for at least some of the voyage while Kurt was topside… as he preferred to be. It wasn't that he hated Kurt or even people in general; he just disliked being in others presence, they hurt him.

The "room" (as it was truly too small to be called such) consisted of a bunk bed crammed to the side of a closet-sized area walled with sheet metal and rivets, the remaining space was a minuscule walkspace that a person's shoulders would brush the edges of. At the foot of the beds was another miniature space that could hold both boys' suitcases. A door in the back of the enclosure led to a one-person shower room that appeared to be the same size as the room that it branched from.

"Your battle stations in case we are attacked are in compartment twenty," the naval lady instructed, "Meals are served at 0700, 1200 and 1800 hours directly above us. Is there anything else you need?"

"Yes," Kurt said after quickly setting down his bag, "How do I get topside?"

Nodding, the naval lady pointed down the hall, "That way, to the right, and up the ladder." Kurt followed her instruction and started to run to the ladder, "And NO running!" the naval lady shouted. Kurt complied with the letter of that order, if not the spirit as he started to speed-walk instead.

"I hate escort duty," she mumbled under her breath, then she turned back to Shinji, "We'll be stopping in Hawaii to pick up the cargo ship _Tiamat_, and then it's no stopping for us until several weeks from now when we enter Gehrin's waters off the coast of Japan."

"Alright, thank you," Shinji said as he lay down his bag.

"One more thing before I go."

"Yes ma'am?"

"Both of your baggage will be transferred over to the _Tiamat_ when we get to Hawaii, be sure to tell the other one that when he fin… comes back."

"Yes ma'am, I will."

* * *

(from one of Franklin Delano Roosevelt's fireside radio chats) 

"… In the other war that is going on, not the one that threatens democracy, but instead the entire world. The First Child has been named. Rei Ayanami from Japan has been selected for this honor as she has been the first of the Children Candidates to climb into the cockpit for the defense of the entire human race… She was involved in the first ever training drill with one of the war machines that the children will pilot; GEHRIN reported that it was a success this afternoon to the Human Salvation Committee. So this evening, as you pray for your sons, brothers, and fathers in distant lands, also take a moment to pray for these children as well. For there will come a time when the crisis with the Nazis and the Japanese Empire will end, for good or for ill though I hope for the best, and we will fully rely on the Children's competence, livelihood, and good will.

Good night, and may your dreams reunite you with lost and distant loved ones…"

* * *

_It had been a week since they had left Hawaii; at that time, Shinji had gotten used to the surroundings of creaking metal and loud snores from the sailors. The monotony of sailing with the navy had tired him to the point to where he now slept up to sixteen hours a day. When he was awake, he stared out over the usually flat ocean for hours on end when the weather was calm, thinking; when Mother Nature was not cooperative, he lay on his bunk and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling since Kurt had crashed on the bottom bunk the first night after he had a brief reintroduction with his dinner. Sleep was the only form of entertainment that Shinji could reliably use; he had no paper or pencil for either writing or drawing and did not have any ideas even if he did. The movies that were shown in the break room were varied in nature and mostly had bad actors in them that played out terrible plots. Another reason that he slept so much were the vivid dreams that he had, in them were wondrous forms of fantasy that could only come from the omnivorous reader of epic fiction that boys sometimes are… His dreams were filled with dark, evil wizards that knew more than they told, of Gunslingers questing through mountains, deserts, and the ruined, war-torn remains of futuristic cities, of trains that are pains and great slobbering beasts that had to be vanquished. In every dream, which might begin as a nightmare even though it always ended on a good note if he saw this, there was a dark tower that spiraled from a field of roses. The roses sang to him, comforting and cradling him while the tower gave off the aroma of confidence… of _rightness_…_

_However, tonight is different, and Shinji is scared because he knows that he won't be able to see the tower in this dream. It started out simple enough, he had started out in the apartment that he and his guardian shared before they were forced out by the US government, his bare feet pattered on the wooden floor as he made his way down the hallway to the door. When he touched the polished brass of the doorknob, a vile thought_

(The red eye approaches swiftly. Hail Discordia! Hail Todash! Los the Red is he. Killroy was here and the dark man follows.)

_brushed against the upper recesses of his mind but they would not take root, and so, withered away. The doorknob seemed to turn on its own volition and as the door opened the nauseating sounds of chimes filled his head, making his eyes water, a rolling stench of onions and burnt metal washes over him as well- chocking him with their odor and making his nose sting and water._

_Then as suddenly as it starts, it stops. Dazed, he picks himself off of some soft, plowed dirt and looks around. A diseased cornfield surrounds him, overgrown with mold and rot and weeds that appeared to be worse off than the corn was._

_A flock of crows fly into the sky behind him, cawing in fear and scattering feathers in their haste. Shinji turns around, wondering what could have scared the birds. Rocks ground on his feet, which meant that he was still bare foot._

_He could see nothing at first except the corn and the fleeing flock of birds. Then the flock, which was of prodigious size turned around and flew at Shinji. He held up his arms to shield his face as wings buffeted him and claws raked at him as the flock flew around him. Their cawing was a constant cacophony that seemed to form human speech in a garbled tongue. Their foray suddenly stopped as they flew upwards, and in one mass, flew straight down to the ground in front of Shinji._

_But they never impacted the ground, instead their forms twisted and writhed and discolored as they were attracted to each other into a vague human shape. Then Shinji saw them meld their flesh into one and actually _become_ a human. A grinning man with glowing, red eyes under a mop of messy black hair that was pulled back to form a ponytail. He was dressed in faded denim jeans and jacket with well-broken in cowboy boots. He looked like a normal guy, apart from the glowing eyes and the wild hair, but his smile could make men's prostrates go bad and birds fall dead in flight. Shinji saw the apparition reach into his jacket pocket, then he turn and ran away from the grinning figure._

(The child fled through the cornfield, and the dark man followed.)

_Corn leaves with saw-tooth edges slapped at Shinji as he fled, cutting into him. The row that he ran through appeared to be getting smaller, or were the dead plants reaching out for him with fingers of corn and knives of leaves? Yes, that had to be it, the cornstalks had to be the man's servants and they were going to slow him down or trip him and tie him up as a sacrifice for an evil god._

_Shinji tripped suddenly over a rock, sending pain shooting up his leg as it shattered like glass. His momentum carried him forward into the earth that was warm as clotted ox blood. Coughing and groaning, he rolled over. Saliva flew out of his mouth in an undignified way as his coughing projected it out into the air._

_A heavy boot stomped into his chest, forcing the air out of Shinji's lungs. The Dark Man was leering and laughing over him, "I'll teach you for making a fool out of me! Now that I've finally found you again!" he tittered with grim ecstasy._

_Shinji wanted to say that he must have gotten the wrong person because he had never even seen the dark man before, but the boot stayed on his chest robbing him of air with which to speak with._

_A whirling, whistling sound came from behind the man, who turned around and looked up in puzzlement. Then his head parted company with his shoulders as a spinning sickle sliced through the air and through his neck. His warm blood sprayed onto Shinji as his body and head fell, mercifully, into the next row of the field. Shinji looked up to see who his savior was._

_It was a white horse and its rider, the rider was a black-haired girl with sad, blue eyes. The hand that threw the sickle was still outstretched, while the other held a hammer up high. She rode up to him and grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise, "Come on," she said hastily, "he won't stay dead." She tried to pick him up, but she couldn't. She opened her mouth to say something else but-_

"ALL HANDS TO BATTLE STATIONS UNKNOWN AIRCRAFT SIGHTED!" _came through the air like the voice of God._

"_Wake up Shinji," the girl said in Kurt's voice, "Something intresting is..._

* * *

… going on outside," Kurt said to Shinji shaking him in an effort to wake him up. 

"Wha?" Shinji asked, still half asleep and reeling from his dream, which would be forgotten, like all dreams, in a few moments.

"There's a Foo Fighter right outside! Hurry or we're going to miss it!"

Shinji got out of the bunk slowly, Foo Fighters weren't all that specia… Then something that Kurt had just said had caught up to his awakening brain and slapped it into overdrive.

Kurt said that a Foo Fighter was right outside the ship, they usually never got that close, and they usually stayed way up high in the sky- never going near anything.

What was it doing here?

"Go on ahead," he told Kurt, "I'll catch up."

Kurt nodded and ran out the room, Shinji watched him go, wondering why he didn't go immediately with him.

His arm ached for one thing.

Shinji looked down at his arm, it was bruised. The shape of the bruise was a perfect handprint…

* * *

He went as quickly as he could to the deck, many sailors were gathered at the right of the hatch (Shinji didn't know or care about which side it was, but it was the starboard) staring at a green sphere of opulent florescence. 

It sat there, hovering, and occasionally jumping to the front or to the rear of the cruiser with frightening speed

A flat, bass humming sound thrummed from the Foo Fighter. A sound that could be felt more than heard. The _Boston _vibrated with its weighty presence.

Then, with no warning except an increase of the hum, the Foo Fighter sped towards the horizon at a speed that would kill a person.

Shinji was one of the first ones to recover, "Aren't they usually blue?" a sailor in front of them asked- and he was right, this one had been different from all the others that he had seen in his short life. Maybe that's why this one came so close.

"Why do you think it left?" Kurt asked of Shinji… like he was an expert or something; Shinji just shrugged. Then a low growl of thunder pealed out from across the waves. "Aw, shit, I'm not going to sleep tonight."

* * *

Nothing else of interest happened during their voyage, even though the crew began to get jittery as they entered Japanese waters. Every so often, a Japanese warship would approach them and, seeing the GEHRIN flag over the American one, leave. Shinji slept contently, if logs were content. The Dark Man did not return to his dreams, and neither did the girl. However, they both stayed upon the fringes of his dreams, their silent war being waged between them.

* * *

(Off the coast of Hakone, Japan… Gehrin-1) 

The two boys and the sailors transporting them peered, like the picture of Killroy, over the railing and through a mist that seemed unnatural. The _Tiamat_ stayed close beside them, also wary of the fog and what it could hide. GEHRIN could say until it was blue in the face that they were protected, but any trigger-happy Jap submarine captain could fire at them without realizing that they were firing at a ship that held a vital interest in the whole of humanity.

Wait. Was that a shape moving in the water? Or was it just the mind being naughty?

It was a shape that started out small and light and grew larger and darker as it came closer, a ship! That's what it was, a battleship!

And it was bringing its guns to bear.

One of the sailors on board lifted up a flare gun and fired a blue light into the sky- the international symbol of a craft working for GEHRIN. The other ship did nothing in many tense moments, and then it sent up a blue flare of its own, another GEHRIN ship. The mystery ship pulled alongside the _Boston_, and one of their sailors put his hands to his mouth and yelled, "_Buon giorno! Come state?"_

The sailors of the _Boston _pausedin shock for a moment, "Italians," one of them said at last with a little distaste, "Does anyone know their lingo?"

Another sailor gave that, yes, he knew a little Italian, little being the key word. "No italiano!" he shouted back, "We're American!"

The Italian sailors gave little starts or withering glares, bunches of heads shook as they chittered. Then an alarm sounded on the _Boston_, then on the Italian ship as well. **UNIDENTIFIED SUBMERSIBLE** the alarms shouted in a strange harmony of two languages. Men prepared for the worst as they grabbed life jackets and dashed to their ordered areas. A large, fast bulge surged through the water, going between the two warships and rocking them. The swell had six spots that glowed red.

The Italian ship, with its huge guns, fired at the bulge. Three heavy shells arced their way towards the unseen enemy and crashed into it, sending up violent geysers of salty brine.

The source of the swell remained though.

A collective gasp of awe and fear sounded across the waves as a giant, green, manlike creature stood up out of the water, it turned to them- seeming to regard them- and then turned away headed for land. They were just a little mosquito bite in the mind of the lithe titan. Hopefully…

The coast of Hakone was close by; the monster was heading for that. The wail of a city's bombing sirens cut through the still air and mist like a sharp knife through a melon.

"Oh dear God!" Kurt screamed, "What the hell was that!"

"That's… That's what we're supposed to fight," guessed Shinji.

And he knew that he was right...

* * *

Macavity the Mystery Cat: Thank You for being interested. I'll try to keep the pacing at an acceptable level to try and avoid problems. 

CplShepard: Thank You!

Blaze 1: Thank you and I'll try to keep that in mind as I'm writing this.

Ranchoth: Thank you! And I promise that I will deliver (unless a beer truck hits me). And yes, we'll see the very limits of WW2 tech used in crazy ways.

Omega87: Thank you! And, while the premise wasn't original (it was an orphan plotbunny in the Evamade forums put up for adoption by Zeroasalimit) the story is of my own devising, it had been mulling around in my head for a good long while, fermenting, until this story came out like a hearty ale… tasted just as good too.

DarklightZERO: Thank you! The conflicts between the characters is one of the main reasons I decided to write this. The technology levels will certainly change things, I just don't know how much yet since I haven't fully written that detail out yet. (That and it's hard to figure out which technologies of WW2 that I really need to study in more detail.)

Rose1948: And a big THANK YOU in your direction as well.

Crystalline Virtues: Thank you! Description is the thing that makes stories come to life, without it, imagination would only go as far as the writer. And by problems, do you mean in the writing style, or do you mean the plot points that I'm forcing the characters to jump through (Through the hoop Shinji! Through the hoop!)

* * *

That is all for this time. In the words of General McArthur: I shall return. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Father Knows Best

(GEHRIN, Geofront, Hakone)

The large room was filled with scurrying people. It normally was a bright room, but the light had been halved in a preemptive strike against the surety of the overloaded generators that were to come. Five people sat to the rear and above issuing orders

"MAGI's radar stations place target at Mark… three, three, two, seven point… six, one, eight," a radar tech with glasses said, viewing the ticker tape that rolled out of his station.

Several women with headphones covering their ears and T-shaped sticks in their hand moved a peg on a large, table-top map that represented an angel whenever they attacked.

Gendo Ikari, the supreme commander of GEHRIN, nodded, "Scramble fighter squadrons three through twenty to slow the angel down, also ready bomber squadron eight for a run."

The women placed new pegs on the huge, back-lit map that represented the squadrons; there were perhaps fifty fighters in all.

"So Ikari," one of the three Japanese generals, or Taishos, that sat next to him –at the moment- mockingly deplored, "You finally decided to show a little sense and use the best that Humanity has to offer."

Gendo glared at them, he already didn't like them when they had scoffed at radio waves being used in such a way- the fools thought it best to try(and fail) to build a death ray with the waves, "It is not the best. We can only slow down the angel with conventional weapons."

"That is correct," said a borderline elderly man with more salt than pepper in his hair sitting on the other side of the Commander, "It has an AT-field."

"But the Second Manifestation of fifteen years ago…"

A phone rang on the counter in front of Gendo, interrupting the General's rant before it could start, he picked it up and listened a moment, "Understood… Alright, I'll be there shortly." Then he turned to the man who had taken up in his defense, "Fuyutsuki, take care of this please."

"Yes sir. Might I ask why you are leaving at this time?"

"The American ships are here. The Italian is here as well, they're firing at the angel."

Vice-Commander Fuyutsuki's eyebrow rose slightly as Gendo left through an elevator, "Oh? Let's hope for the best then. And your first meeting with him in seven years, I wonder what Yui would have said…"

* * *

"Damn, we're in a tight spot," Kurt swore.

Shinji had to agree with him, the green behemoth stood between them and a stolid looking harbor.

Japanese Zeros buzzed and strafed around the being of green like bothersome mosquitoes; their bullets' damage was about the same as a mosquito bite… most likely less… against the field of orange hexagons that flashed as each bullet and shell slammed into it.

The monster stepped out of the water and onto the beach; revealing shoe-like feet. The things legs and waist seemed freakishly skinny and fragile to be holding up such massive amounts of weight that was held in the bulky torso. White shoulder armor made of what appeared to be bone made the creature look like a sort of knight. Red gills fluttered on the legs and on the upper arms; opening and closing, opening and closing, like a fish gasping for a breath of cold, clear water.

The same ossified material that made the shoulders made the face as well. An owl face that stared out with two black holes that was placed directly onto the shoulders, no neck whatsoever. A red orb jutted from the stomach while several rib like structures flanked it like fangs.

The _Boston _accelerated suddenly, throwing Shinji and Kurt off-balance for a moment. The cruiser bounded over the waves as it sped to the harbor, firing as it went.

As the _Boston_ ran across the waves, the _Tiamat_ followed. And the Italian ship covered them.

A sailor poked his head out of a hatch and told them that they were insane for staying topside; but, insane or not, the Captain had ordered them inside because they had to make a quick disembark and they needed to have done it yester… The sailor was cut off as the shrieking, flaming wreck of a Zero crashed into the water next to them, destroyed by a rod of vibrating light that projected out of the three-fingered hand. Anyways they needed to have done it yesterday since the _Tiamat_ was coming in right behind them to unload their cargo.

"What are you waiting for! Get in here quickly!"

Kurt glanced back at the angel, "You know," he remarked, "I think that I'll be getting inside quickly."

* * *

(Loja, Spain)

"Ringo! Wait for me! Mamá will be mad at me if you get lost!" a boy of about six, Jaíme was his name, yelled ahead to his mostly tan mutt.

Ringo looked back, wagged his tail, and barked once as if to say _hurry up then! I'm really old compared to you, so you should be leaving ME in the dust!_ And the floppy-eared mongrel was old, 81, in dog-years to be exact, and didn't have many more left. One could see that in its, surprisingly agile, arthritic gait and the milky cataracts in its eyes that it might have been more merciful to take Ringo in a nice, quiet field and euthanize him. But, to Jaíme, Ringo was immortal since the dog had been around when he was born.

However, the dog's youth, or lack of it, is not of our concern. What we ARE here to see is the fact that Ringo strayed from the path and Jaíme followed.

That is what led to the most influential discovery in the history of Earth…

"Ringo, come on!"

Again, the dog barked, this time without even turning around. And then he disappeared over a grass-covered hill.

Sighing in exasperation, Jaíme trudged along after the prodigal hound.

And tripped over something that was the size of an aluminum can… above ground.

"Oof!" the boy cried as he face-planted into the ground. He picked himself off the painful earth and brushed himself off (ignoring the grass-stains, but all boys instinctively ignore grass-stains until their mother's scolding). Looking around in a mild state of confusion as to what tripped him, the boy found a protrusion of brushed metal that jutted out like a flattened tooth amongst a clump of weeds. He briefly wondered what it was.

Inquisitive, Jaíme reached out and touched it.

Something that felt like a lightning bold flooded, unseen, out of the piece and coursed up the boy's arm, filling his mind with _greenness_.

Jaíme quickly snapped away from the piece of metal and staggered backwards, tripping over his own feet.

After picking himself back up the second time, Jaíme again wondered what it was; a secret Allied bunker perhaps, or maybe a treasure chest, or maybe some enemy of a mob boss' grave.

Yes, the grave idea had to be it. It would explain (to his wildly imaginative mind) the nearly _psychic_ shock; it had to be bones, crying out for justice. (Aren't little children the most easily susceptible to the wild fancies?)

Jaíme almost made the decision to run away then, but something made him stay. Again he reached out and caressed the brushed metal.

Nothing.

No tingle. No shock.

Absolutely nothing.

The boy then tried to pry the hunk out of the ground, but it was as solid as mother-rock and wouldn't budge. Jaíme started to trench around it to see if he could dig it out.

Ringo rustled through the grass next to the boy and did something that scared his companion.

The dog growled at the hunk of metal like it was a thief in the night.

"Ringo? What's wrong?"

The dog shied away from the object; if Ringo had been a younger dog, he may have gone past growling and into the barking and biting stage… but he did not, so the boy stayed.

Jaíme started to seriously dig around the thing with his hands, getting to about elbow-depth before he had to stop for the evening, and whatever it was hadn't been fully uncovered yet.

After he ran home and washed for supper (and his mother's cries of _what on EARTH did you do to get like this!_), he excitedly told his parents that he had found something large and valuable in the hills.

The boy was wrong; it wasn't just merely large, it was GARGANTUAN.

And beneath the façade of brushed metal, it was dangerous…

Perhaps deadly.

* * *

(Hakone, Japan)

The hook of the port's crane descended into the belly of the _Tiamat_. After a moment taken for the dock-men to set the hook, the crane hauled out a large object covered in olive-drab canvas. "Get that to the launch tube!" ordered a bearded man with shaded glasses to the GEHRIN dockers.

Shinji's heart and face fell, what was this man doing here?

Kurt, misreading Shinji's expression, said, "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll win."

Stunned, Shinji asked, "What do you mean?"

The albino boy pointed at the covered load, it was, at most, half the size of the green behemoth, "You mean, you weren't worried about that?"

"No," was all he said… all he could say before the bearded man walked up to them. He didn't want to be around this man.

"Kurt, Shinji," the man greeted with a certain dourness that seemed to be more of an aura than an actual expression.

Kurt used the little Japanese he knew to stammer some response back.

Shinji waited until Kurt finished speaking then he said two words and two words only; then he looked down at his feet, unable to raise his eyes to the man's. Why did he always feel this way around him? Ashamed, broken, and used; those feelings were always strong around this man.

The two words were "Hello Father" of course.

Gendo Ikari stared at him with stone eyes, "If you two would follow me please," he finally ordered.

* * *

Shinji's father led them to a car with bulletproof windows, (it was easy to tell that because the glass was flat instead of curved, and a good inch or so thick) and bade them to enter.

The bearded man crawled into the front passenger seat; leaving the driver's side, at the moment, unoccupied.

"I wonder who's driving?" Kurt whispered to Shinji in English.

Gendo glared daggers back at the albino boy, making Kurt shrivel against the leather seat, "Tell your… companion," he nearly spat at Shinji, "that it is mandatory for him to learn Japanese."

Shinji nodded, but his heart and stomach clenched, partly because of the proximity to his father and partly because of dread for the ride ahead.

He translated what his father said to the albino boy.

"_Hai,_" responded Kurt, holding up the English-Japanese dictionary- probably more for the benefit of Gendo then for Shinji, "I am trying though."

At that moment a woman entered the driver's seat, a woman whose color-scheme was predominantly red with **let-down** hair that shined purple in the right light. She appeared uneasy, almost afraid.

"Hello you two!" she greeted in Japanese with a false smile and exuberance, "I see that you have already met Commander Ikari, so let me introduce myself as Captain Katsuragi, or Misato if you prefer, and…"

"Sit down Captain, we don't have much time," the bespectacled man interrupted.

"Yes sir," then she leaned down and whispered into Gendo's ear, "Are you sure we can trust them?"

"We have to," was the answer that came back.

Shinji, who had heard nothing of the short exchange except his father's line, saw Misato's suspicious eyes graze across him and Kurt. _Why doesn't she like us?_ He thought, he then answered himself, _we're Americans, that's why._

_Then why is she looking at me more than him?_

That was when he realized that whatever happened after this, he would be either be clamored for by the representatives of both sides of the war or hated by everyone.

Either way, his life was about to get worse.

"Right well, let's get out of here!" Misato yelled before speeding off the dock and past the angel like a rum runner running from the law.

But even as she made a wild turn that would make an adrenaline junkie scream in total sheer terror, Shinji found himself asking a question, _how the__** hell **__did his father get his seatbelt on so quickly?_

* * *

Ranchoth: You do bring up a point, with Asuka I mean since Shinji is a Japanese-American, the reason why she has a Japanese name? I goofed. Forgot about that little bit… But maybe I can work it in as a plot point… Thanks for pointing it out though; I wouldn't have caught it otherwise. 

DarklightZERO: Don't worry, the OC's won't be stereotypes, and they will be picked apart in true Eva fashion. The next time I'm in England (in two weeks); I'll be looking at the people and studying them for examples to draw from now. Thanks for being concerned though. That tells me you like this lil' tale.

The-Xenocide: Long days and pleasant nights to you, O' fellow Constant Reader! I won't give out answers too soon as that would kill the suspense, drive away the mystery, make this not as interesting, etc… But, there ARE answers out there… somewhere… I think.

Rose1948: Thank you!

Crystalline Virtues: I will delve deep soon enough, I'm just following the Evangelion Rule: Action First To Get Them Hooked, Then Psychology To Bamboozle Them. Thank you too!


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